Under the night sky, the pavilion was silent and tranquil, like an old man sitting in a lounge chair, quietly observing the serene world. Outside the pavilion, the ever-energetic white mist rolled around; inside, the tall floor mirror stood like a qualified servant, quietly stationed there.
Silent as ever.
"Thump!"
A figure tumbled out, let out a muffled groan, and rolled out from the mirror.
He did not cry out loud, only struggled to stand up, looking around. In the silent night, the pavilion was empty, without a single soul in sight.
Not even the teacher was there.
Zheng Qing clenched his fist, feeling he was missing something.
He looked down, thought carefully for a few seconds, and then realized that the gilded silver pot given to him by Zhu Si was gone. The silver pot had to be carried by hand because it wouldn't fit into the grey cloth bag.
Zheng Qing touched the grey cloth bag hanging by his waist.
The bulging grey cloth bag had deflated once again.
